


Therapy Sessions

by Mici (noharlembeat)



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Crack, Gen, Maximoff family shenanigans, Shenanigans, billy kaplan is a precious flower, billy's life is hard, non-canon compliant, therapy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noharlembeat/pseuds/Mici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy is thwarted in his career as a villain but at least the therapy is interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy Sessions

**Author's Note:**

> Character mutilation, timeline mutilation, and the opinion that canon is for sissies and people who think too much. Also crack is here. I'm going to say it again because the last time I wrote something like this I nearly killed someone with a lollipop. _This is pure crack!fic_. Unbetaed crackfic.

The neon-bright lights around the Empire State Building hurt Wiccan’s eyes, but he doesn’t care. He’s too caught up in this storm, which just gets bigger and bigger with the magic that he’s feeding into it. Soon, it will be big enough, and this will be over, and everyone will know. The only thing that isn’t helpful is his mother’s voice in the back of his head, asking him who is this benefiting? Why is he doing this? Is this an appropriate way to express his pain?

Wait.

That’s not a voice in his head. He turns around in midair and the sound of his mother’s voice, amplified with a bullhorn, hits him with the subtlety of a punch to the stomach. “ _William, I understand you’re upset but take a deep breath and come down and we’ll discuss a better way to manage your anger. This is not an appropriate venue, young man! Did you remember your breathing?_ ”

\------

Billy supposes that after his short (not even a single building destroyed) stint into villainy, a two month grounding and mandatory anger management therapy is only fair. He also suspects that Emma Frost coming to his front door to discuss ‘options’ and ‘upstate’ is probably fair, too, but his mom tells him it is absolutely impolite to eavesdrop and closes the door to her office while Emma’s in there. 

Teddy, who still doesn’t understand Billy’s ‘episode’ (mostly because it’s sort of embarrassing to talk about how he got so upset) is chilling in his room and watching him closely. “So your mom is talking to Emma Frost – so what? It’s not like they can make you go upstate.”

“You say this as if it’s impossible. As if my mother won’t be seduced by the picturesque scenery and the verdant lush landscape and the thrill of having me share a room with a guy who is _literally_ a _brick wall_. As if I don’t feel guilty enough for trying to electrocute the top of the Empire State Building because-“ 

Billy doesn’t get to describe why, despite Teddy’s sudden leaning in to hear the elusive reason as to Billy’s sudden departure into the world of evil plots and being foiled by the Avengers, because his mom opens the door to his room and peers in. “Oh, good, you boys are both here,” she says. “I’m going with Miss Frost to Westchester, I’ll be back tonight. Babysit the boys,” she says, meaning Billy’s brothers, “and remember your breathing.” She takes Billy’s head in her hands and plants a kiss on his temple. “Your father is on call so try not to have any emergencies, and don’t make Adam take his vitamin unless he wants to, remember, he’s just exerting his independence and his newfound sense of personal growth.”

As soon as she and Emma leave in a whirl of coats and capelets, Billy turns and mutters darkly to Teddy. “I’m doomed.”

\---

Funny enough, he’s _not_ doomed. His mother comes back from Westchester and the next few days she’s in a flurry of activity at work. The dreaded word transfer doesn’t even come up, and Billy suspects he might be in the clear, right up until one night at dinner, his dad, who has been on call for almost every single day since the ‘incident,’ says, “Okay, buddy, your mom and I talked it over, and we think that you need something constructive to do with your time.”

Billy goes still as a stone for a long minute. “Like…transferring to a school for gifted youngsters?”

Billy’s dad looks confused, and he shakes his head. “No, no, you’re not transferring. We mean like a job. Or an internship.” 

Billy feels himself relax a smidge – okay, this, he can work with. “Can it be somewhere interesting? Like the comic book store?”

“No,” Billy’s mom says firmly. “You know I believe in your personal growth, but your father and I think it would be best if you worked with the receptionist at the office. She needs the extra help and it would do you some good to be in an environment that you’re not completely comfortable in.”

Billy wants to point out that environment is basically school, and also anywhere that isn’t the Young Avengers headquarters or the comic book store, but he’s so elated at getting off easy (and without having to move to boarding school) that he practically throws a party right there. “Okay,” he says, attempting to look properly chastised and realizing he is probably failing miserably, “when do I start?”

\-----

It is, predictably, the most boring desk job known to man. The receptionist is kind of not very nice (she keeps calling him _William_ , even though she’s known him forever and knows he prefers Billy) and it’s mostly just filing. It is, however, better than staying at home while the rest of the team goes out and does stuff. 

He’s filing some of the surveys that her patients take when it happens.

“Okay Victor, I appreciate you coming, and you take care this week. Remember that our feelings aren’t there to make us feel small, but to help us relate to the world.”

Billy happens to look up at just that moment, and there, _wearing a mask_ , like _it’s not creepy or inappropriate_ , is Doctor Doom, shaking his mother’s hand. “Thanks, Rebecca, I’ll see you next week.”

He turns to glare at Billy, and Billy just stares back until Doctor Doom takes a deep breath and mutters, “They’re not looking because they want me to feel bad.”

Billy watches as he walks away and then turns to stare at the door to his mother’s office. “Uh, Donna,” he says, turning to look at the receptionist, who raises both eyebrows, “is my mom with a patient right now?”

“No,” she says, “but don’t go in there,” she adds, scowling, but Billy already has his hand on the door and is opening it.

“Mom,” he says, “Mom. Mom. _Mom_ ,” he adds, as if each repetition of her title will make her look up faster. “ _Mom was that Doctor Doom in here?_ ” He’s secretly hoping that his mom will tell him no, that’s just someone with a severe case of something that makes them want to dress up like an villain and walk around New York City scaring the crap out of people like him.

“Billy you know I can’t discuss my patients with you,” she says placidly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another patient coming in at 2:30, and you have filing to do.” 

Billy exits and once he closes the door, marveling at his mother’s ability to make him do things like that, he looks up and sees Cyclops and Emma Frost in the waiting room, quietly and fervently discussing something that sounds like, “Well if you weren’t so closed off…” followed by a hissing, “We can’t all be telepaths, Emma!”

Billy wonders if when he was up in that storm what actually happened is that he died, and this is actually some elaborately concocted afterlife. He wonders if it’s this kind of thing that makes so many heroes come back from the dead – the bizarre and wacky afterlife tailored especially for them. 

Emma looks at him crossly and hisses, “You’re not dead or dreaming, William. Get back to work.”

\------

As the week goes by, it gets stranger and stranger. Tony Stark pops in one afternoon with Hank Pym, and Hank goes in while Tony waits outside making phone call after phone call to Pepper Potts about how he’s not avoiding some giant shareholders meeting, he’s helping a friend. A mild mannered man comes in and the Hulk destroys his mom’s desk. A very hassled Wolverine comes in, reeking of cigar smoke. He threatens to light one up and Billy is about to ask him, politely, to not, and risk certain death, when his mom comes out of her office and says, “Logan, I’ve asked you before to not smoke in the office.”

To Billy’s wonder Wolverine tucks the cigar back in his shirt pocket and scowls, but that doesn’t seem to bother his mom, who simply ushers him into the back and pats him on the back. “I appreciate the effort,” she tells him, while Billy sits there, silent as a stone, unable to process _what the hell_ is actually happening in this office anymore.

\------

In a baffling turn of events, Billy actually starts getting used to the constant influx of people who are ridiculously famous and also on the crux of superpowered breakdowns. He sits in the office for an hour with Clint Barton while Clint stares into space, and it takes Billy most of that hour of the silent treatment to realize he’s sleeping with his eyes open. He shares a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos with Johnny Storm, who is way hotter in person, and he even manages to say hello to Gambit without sounding like a total spaz (although that one is a close call, but luckily at the high pitched voice break at the end of the _lo_ Gambit just smiled, at which point Billy had said something about filing and scuttled off to lie in the file room floor and pant on the phone to Teddy about how he feels like he’s cheating on him with a man who didn’t do anything but smile).

But then, just as things are getting normal (as if such a thing is possible) the world sort of blows up.

“I’m not interested in your apologies!” Billy hears someone yell, loudly. Billy has been buried in filing so he hasn’t even gotten to see which zany super-whatever was sitting in the lobby today. He peeks his way around the corner and into his mother’s office – somehow the door is mysteriously _open_ \- and he is suddenly sees a set of silver-haired Russian nesting dolls.

Pietro Maximoff sits in the corner of the office, staring out the window in a ‘I would clearly like to be anywhere but _here_ ’ pose, and in the super comfortable puffy chair that Billy particularly likes to curl up in when his mom is staying late doing paperwork, is Magneto himself.

It takes another moment to realize that the third nesting doll is Tommy, who is lounging in the long fainting couch. Billy stares. How does this kind of thing happen? Why does he always end up being the peeking party to Tommy monopolizing their grandfather? First off, it’s creepy and weird, but mostly, how does he even spend time with the guy? He doesn’t even know they’re related!

“Now, Pietro,” Rebecca says, her voice in ‘calm down this isn’t an emergency’ mode, “I understand you’re upset. Can you tell your father why?”

“Because he’s a terrible father!” Pietro yells, and he’s up, and then sitting back down. “Why am I even here?”

“I want to repair our father-son bond and I heard that Dr. Kaplan was the best,” Magneto says calmly. 

_Who is spreading this_ , Billy wonders. Is there a listserv he’s not a part of? Some kind of superhero/villain mailing list? A lifestyle magazine? He’s trying to imagine his mom on the cover in a glossy, posed photo and the caption “Rebecca Kaplan, Therapist to Metahumans: her tips to deal with your friends and foes!” 

It’s disturbingly easy.

“Why is he here? And why does he look like I did at that age? Did you _clone_ me? I thought this family didn’t participate in experimentation, I thought it was-“

Rebecca smoothly takes over, “Now, we don’t want to yell. Pietro, do you feel threatened by Tommy?”

Tommy suddenly looks interested in the conversation; from this angle Billy can’t see Pietro’s face anymore, but there’s a sullen reply of, “I don’t have feelings.”

“Do you see, Doctor Kaplan? I am trying to bond with this young man because he seems like he could truly use help,” Magneto says, “And my son refuses to admit that it bothers him. I know I haven’t been the best father-“

“Understatement.”

“But I am trying, Pietro. I would like make it up to you. We could go on outings. We could…spend time together.”

There’s silence and Rebecca calmly says, “Pietro, your father is reaching out. Don’t you see? Thomas is not a threat. He can’t replace you. Don’t you have something to say?”

“You’re a terrible dad and I hate you,” Pietro says sullenly. But then, probably because Billy’s mom has spent the last hour working on him, he says, “I just wanted you to love me.”

_What._

_The._

_Fuck._

Billy stands there in silence, wedged between the filing cabinet and a very expensive but ugly statue of a woman holding her hands up to some light source and peeking in on _Maximoff family counseling_ that somehow he was neglected to be invited to. Billy isn’t sure if he’s flattered or offended. He decides it’s probably both.

“And how does that make you feel?”

Pietro mumbles something about _father_ and _finally_ and possibly _liked_ because _siked_ doesn’t make as much sense.

“Well we’ve made a lot of progress today, but I want to see you again once a week. Family therapy can be complicated but it will be worth it. In the meantime I want everyone to write out a list of desires they want – please don’t write about wanting to take over the world unless you feel it will help you bond with your son, Mr. Lensherr – and we’ll discuss them next week. Thomas, you really didn’t have to come, you know.”

“I thought my presence might help Mr. Maximoff talk honestly about how my bonding with his father made him feel. I feel like if I’m around he can be angry, and anger is good in the initial process, right?”

 _Kiss up,_ Billy thinks, because damn that’s a good line. Why didn’t he ever think of it? Why isn’t he there? He should be there. He’s Pietro’s clone too! Well, in non-standard colors, anyway.

“Yes, you’re right,” Rebecca says, “And this is about you, as well. Write your own list.”

Billy manages to unwedge himself before they leave, and he’s in the filing room. Well, he considers – things could be worse. He could have had to sit through family therapy today, too. Or something. 

Although it wasn’t really fair that they didn’t include him – he’s part of this family too, even though, well, they don’t know it, they don’t even know about Tommy, and he’s practically Pietro’s _clone_ , so that doesn’t make much sense. He takes a deep breath because he can feel himself getting angry, and that’s not fair to anyone, especially himself. Actually, it feels pretty good to work through the logic of it in his own head as he files, and soon he’s humming to himself the latest ditty from the radio and not thinking about it at all.

He turns, finally, to see his mom smiling at him. “What?” he asks curiously.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says, and kisses him on the temple like she always does, and pats him on the head. “I can tell that you’re really taking your therapy to heart.”

Billy goes still for a minute because _damn it she’s right_ , but then takes another deep breath and keeps filing.


End file.
